


Hallelujah

by Aloysia_Virgata



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloysia_Virgata/pseuds/Aloysia_Virgata
Summary: His eyes are drunk and dilated in the moonlight that bathes them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Hallelujah this morning in the shower, and this sort of unfolded out of that on the car ride to work. Don’t tell my boss. ;)

It was never the eleventh commandment, _Thou shalt not sleep with thy partner._ It was more a vow she had taken upon herself; _I_ shall not sleep with _my_ partner. 

Scully has mixed notions about chastity, about the purity of abstention from desires, and she acknowledges in herself a Gothic fascination with love unconsummated. 

The Lenten season has been long, however, and spring has come. 

***

She wants to call him Fox for the novelty of it, but even with his penis pressed against her hip she feels too shy. Scully lies facing him and traces his mouth, lingering at the groove where the top lip fits into the bottom. She smiles through the veil of hair that has fallen across her face.

“Scully,” he says, his teeth grazing the friction ridges on her fingertip.

Her spine resonates like a plucked harp.

***

As his physician, she had long since mapped the terrain of his body but tonight she explores it. The way the ridged landscape of his belly shifts beneath her touch, the slope of his broad back narrowing to an isthmus above his hips. Mulder’s breath is choppy as a winter sea in her ear, nearly pulling her under, until it steadies into a tidal rhythm they both ride out to sea.

***

Trying for a bishop, they used to call it, with the woman on top. But this is not a procreative act, not even in the absence of the condom Mulder had silently offered. She could ride him night after night, her red hair tangled and tossed, and produce no bishops at all. A restorative act, then, skin-to-skin contact in its purest form.

She glances down at the juncture of their bodies, her thighs spread apart around his, and feels a kind of reverence. Mulder, in the depths of her body, begins to twitch. His eyes are drunk and dilated in the moonlight that bathes them.

Mulder reaches for her wrists and pulls her down against his chest. She is sweat-soaked and aching, his hands digging into her back as he comes. Scully hopes for a bruise, a dark smear of night left behind for sunrise

She sucks at his neck, making him shiver and groan her name again.

***

“Can you?” he murmurs, nuzzling her ear.

She can, she could tell him how to touch her, where to put his fingers and his mouth and knowing he would delight in it. But even now, even like this, she isn’t ready for the frankness it requires of her.

“No,” she whispers. “I’m…I’m a little sore.” It is the safer admission.

Mulder shifts then, rests his head on the pale skin of her abdomen just below her breasts. He cups his hand over the rise of her pubis, his fingers stroking her.

She squirms. This is too real, too much focused attention.

“Mulder,” she protests, blushing.

He kisses her scar. “Do you want me to stop?” He presses the heel of his hand against her clitoris.

Scully closes her eyes. “No,” she breathes.

“Okay,” he says. “Good.”

Scully, safe behind her eyelids, grinds her hips against his palm, fingers laced tight in his hair. His breath stirs the curls between her thighs, and the intimacy of it is so intense she cannot bear to look. He parts her labia with his index finger and she could weep.

“ _Oh,_ " she gasps. And, “ _Mulder_.” It doesn’t take her long, shuddering under the rough scrape of his cheek on her belly. She gulps for air as he kisses the hard ridge of her iliac crest.

She still doesn’t open her eyes.

“Scully?” he asks, concerned

She looks at him then, down the length of her own trembling body. She smiles and touches the tip of his nose. “I’m fine.”

He grins at that.

***

Scully’s head is pillowed on his chest, her lips parted. The blanket is tucked up to her chin. Mulder, on his back, snores lightly. He is bare to the waist, one arm around her, the other out to the side. They dream in the sacred dark.


End file.
